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responsibility,” Sam assured Dale.
    Talking with Dale reminded Sam what he dreaded about his job—facing Dale Hinshaw after worship. It never failed. When Sam uttered the final amen, Dale could be depended upon to make a beeline for him, generally to critique his sermon. Over the years, Sam had become adept at smilingwhile Dale prattled on, pretending to listen while thinking of his afternoon nap.
    Indeed, that was what he was doing that very moment, when Dale’s question brought him back to the present.
    “…and so that’s what I was gonna do. What do you think, Sam?”
    “I think it’s a wonderful idea, Dale.”
    Sam had no idea what wacky scheme he’d just endorsed, but was too tired to care.
    “So you don’t mind, then?”
    “Not at all. Best of luck to you,” Sam said, then turned to greet Bea Majors. “What a Sunday morning! Bea, I don’t know how you make that organ sound the way you do.”
    Bea made the organ sound like a catfight, so Sam was purposely vague with his comments, which allowed him to retain his integrity, while Bea, like most people who have an inflated regard for their talent, thought him sincere.
    He shook hands and visited with his flock for another ten minutes, before gathering his Bible and sermon notes from the pulpit, turning off the lights, and locking the doors.
    Locking the doors is something new for Sam. The doors of the meetinghouse have been unlocked since 1949, when Harry Darnell, who headed the trustees, bolted to the Methodist church in a huff and took the key to the church with him.
    No one noticed it missing until 1972, when a vanload of hippies driving through town stopped for the night and slept on the pews. When Pastor Taylor discovered them the next morning, they were seated cross-legged around the pulpit inthe midst of transcendental meditation. He phoned the police, who came and arrested them, even though the door was unlocked and a sign on the door said, “All are welcome.” The transcendental meditation was the hippies’ undoing. If they’d been saying the Lord’s Prayer, Pastor Taylor would have fallen to his knees and joined them.
    It led to the first church fight Sam remembers. The next Sunday, Ellis Hodge had casually suggested they put a new lock on the church door, which had caused Dale Hinshaw to achieve orbit. “Yes, and just as soon as we do that, somebody might want to come inside and get saved and he’ll be locked out. Do you want that on your conscience? I sure don’t!”
    “Why can’t folks get themselves saved on the front steps?” Ellis had asked.
    A perfectly reasonable question, it triggered a half-hour harangue from Dale Hinshaw on the importance of accepting the Lord at altars. “I think you’ve clearly forgotten Scripture’s reminder that the Lord is in His holy temple. It doesn’t say the Lord is on the front steps of the temple. It says He’s in the temple.”
    “Isn’t that in the Old Testament?” Ellis had asked. “What’s that got to do with us?”
    “Are you saying the Lord’s a liar?” Dale had screeched. “If He said it then, He means it now. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
    This had led to an hour-long argument on whether or not Christians were obligated to follow the Old Testament.
    The battle wounds cut so deep it had taken decades to get a lock put on. Even then, someone had to sneak and do it, and thatperson had not confessed. Dale Hinshaw has been looking for the culprit ever since. The month before, Sam had come to meeting and there it was, a brand-new lock on the church door with three keys taped to it. He’s been locking it ever since, except when he forgets, which happens more often than he’d like to admit.
    Dale suspects Ellis Hodge is the guilty party and has tried to wring a confession from him, but Ellis won’t budge, so Dale has been looking to bring him up on other charges, with little success.
    Sam doesn’t spend a lot of time reflecting on these matters for fear it will cause him to leave the